Maybe It Will
by FFCriticReviewer
Summary: Peters. Watterson. Fitzgerald. What more can you say? Gumball and Carrie are a happy married couple, until Carrie confesses she had an affair last year. Upset about this, Gumball intends to do the same, but he meets Penny. The two have a small journey around the small town of Riverside, but can this be more than just a simple walk in the park? [First Draft]
1. I: Small—Startling—Slips

Maybe It Will

By

Henry Peters

A Short Story

I

Small—Startling—Slips

She said it to me, plain as day: "I had an affair last year."

Carrie did this to me. I can't believe this. How? I don't know—why would she do this to me? Why? With me?

Okay, maybe I'm acting a bit silly in these simple words, but so would you when you found out that your 9 year marriage was soon covered in lies when we vowed to be together and stay together, only with each other—especially in bed!—in sickness and death.

Carrie Watterson? Carrie Watterson? Carrie Watterson? Why did it sound so right, but was so wrong?

I just can't believe this. I really can't. You?

* * *

As you may guess (which I know you won't), I'm writing this down on my laptop at the nearest coffee shop. I'm in Riverside downtown, my _lucky_ place, as I always referred to it as. Carrie knows that this is my lucky place. Maybe she doesn't. She just doesn't love me anymore to know that this is my little slice of heaven, where I go when I need to think—not _drink_, think!

Well, it's 9 p.m., so I guess it really shouldn't be blown into proportion.

Goddamn my bipolar disorder. I don't like the fact that my feelings can both show sympathy and anger at the same time.

You know what? Fuck it. Maybe this is actually a blessing in disguise. Maybe this is actually God telling me that I married a whore.

No, no, no. I can't be that harsh, she only did sleep with my_ fucking brother Darwin_. Jesus Christ, why?

Fuck my life! Fuck Carrie.

* * *

Looking back at my wedding is very pathetic. I know—look back at the_ good times_. I can give you three reasons why I declared that very day the best day of my life: 1) My family and friends were happy for me, knowing that I found the one I wanted to spend with the rest of my life with. 2) I was happy, eventually getting passed some of the darkest moments of my life. 3) This was something I was very proud of myself with.

I really do mean that. I mean, I've always wanted to a writer: writing for big screen movies and short stories. My first screenplay sold was called _Hate-Abuse-Recovery_, adapted from a novel of the same name. It was about this 27-year-old guy having somewhat of a midlife crisis when he realizes that he is all alone and really has no one. He meets this guy, who I may recall him as Steven (or Stephen for some, I sure do) that form a short friendship. This serves as a plot device for a big emotional battle with family, rape, brutality, crime, and even within this person.

I was paid $45,000, and I knew I hit the big time. I sold it at 22, with Carrie jumping with me, receiving the check in the mail. We weren't the ones who would blow it all in one day. In fact, we were actually very poor. We still loved each other, but we were barely able to survive on such low terms of cash. I had actually got a small job teaching some immigrants to learn English.

I was actually very good at it. I even interacted with many of them when they needed me the most and there was this one who really had a special thing with. Her name was Maria (very common, I know) who had actually wanted to be a writer as well, playwright to be exact.

I even worked with her in my spare time so she can get her play ready and finished. She had written one back in her country—translated, which the title was actually called _Twists and Turns_ that revolved around a cheating couple that had soon fallen into many dilemmas when each try to hide the truth and has a surprise ending. I can't say what it is—that would ruin the surprise.

After I was done helping her, she gave me a book that belonged to her child, who was actually gay. That came to a surprise since I would think of the book to be somewhat homo-erotic. But I remembered that she wouldn't think of it to be a good thing to hand down to a teacher/friend.

That actually brought some questions to me since the book was in English and if it was read by her son, then he would know English and he could have helped her with it. So I asked her about it, but she said it never occurred to her. Plus, she said that this was free since I was actually being paid by the government (small time for those who can't get a job, not FBI and all that) to help those who needed to learn the language.

I don't regret what happened since it was the very book that I later adapted for the big screen: _Hate-Abuse-Recovery_.

Some good things do happen in some events we consider to be a tragedy (for the melodramatic) or just too bad to remember. If Carrie and I weren't married, the screenplay wouldn't have existed. And this life I live as a small (as I am modest) celebrity still brings some good thrills in my small life, until she cheated on me.

29, and my wife cheated on me.

Ain't life a bitch?

* * *

You know what? I shouldn't just be sitting here and looking at the _supposed good times_. I should and _will_ be out and have a good time as a fucking bachelor.

My wife cheated on me? Fuck it. It should be considered that I sleep with someone too. You know? We can call it even and all. But I really should think this through. I mean, I can't just have sex with some slut and expect it to be the same as it was for her to have sex with my brother. No, no, it's gotta be different.

I know! Two sluts, maybe an orgy. Mainly since she doesn't have family members. That would be silly.

Well, I better let my laptop finish charging (Yeah, I wrote for a while and now I need to charge it) so I could get this whole thing started.

You know, it's weird how I'm writing this and no one will read this. It's almost as if I'm talking to myself. Who knows?


	2. II: Whimsical Wonders

II

Whimsical Wonders

Before I take my tour to a woman's—you know the drill, but I actually want to refresh something in mind.

As I was walking down the street, pasting bits of the time just enjoying the cold air, watching my breath puff out like I was smoking (I don't care if it's childish, it's still fun). I walked and saw these two lesbians walking down the street. I know, I probably judged them without knowing if they were indeed lesbians and such. Matter of all, it seems like it's better to call them two girls making out because they are porn stars, rather than offensive proclaiming them as dykes.

Sure, I'm drifting away from the main point of what I'm getting at, but that's the thing: I'm aware of that. I want you to know these little things about me. I have the idea that if a nuclear bomb crashes and kills us all, they would at least find something of me and be transcended to know that I'm more than just a person (not a snobby celebrity), but someone who has a word or two to say.

Call it like you see it, but walking down the somewhat icy sidewalk in my black trench coat, I think since I don't really keep up what they call these fancy black suits that can be seen as a trench coat and such. That's why it's my opinion, though. Freedom of fucking speech.

I eventually walked down the public skating ring where these couples usually skate (no shit) there for some happy moments...

I can actually say that I don't have a moment with Carrie and I skating. I really don't.

Well, fuck it. I'm just gonna keep walking and mind my own damn business.

* * *

Sorry, I had to charge my phone here in this small fancy hotel lobby. I'm actually glad that I was able to charge it here since the guy at the front desk wasn't too bothered by it. But that's a story I think you should know.

I walked up to him and asked him if I could charge my phone here. He seemed more than happy to.

I told him I really appreciated this. "No problemo, jus' make it quick," he said, almost as if he had a lisp.

That being said, I did so, but felt a little distracted by this guy. Even when I was writing this whole thing down, he just stared at me with a weird smile. It's really weird for me to understand why. I _could_ interpret that he may be gay or something, but that would be racist (I don't care, I still go with it) and a bit prejudice because I'm already getting weird, mixed feelings about this guy. Not romantic feelings, but more on the I'm-uncomfortable side.

After I was done charging my phone, I walked back up to him and thanked him. "It's no biggie, Gumball."

I was surprised by that. "How did you know my name?"

"Well," he began, smacking his lips, "besides you writing my favorite movie of all time, you and I went together back in Elmore."

"We did?"

"Yes, remember?"

I actually didn't, so I shook no.

"It's Stephen! We actually met a couple times at middle school, and we were in Creative Writing in high school. We even had to write a story together."

"We did?" Then it hit me hard. I did recognize him. And, most of all, I still did suspected he was gay, from middle school to this unsuspected surprise. "Oh. My. God. I remember now. We did meet. I even remember you from Darwin's swimming team, or whatever it was." That was something I should have thought twice about instead of blurting it out.

He blushed a bit (still suspecting), "Actually it was synchronized swimming, but it's good that you remembered that. Especially if you did lose your trunks."

"Did I?"

_One of the worst experiences of my life and this guy brought it back up_, I thought.

"I had not remembered that whole ordeal until you brought it back up."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "I didn't mean any offense by it."

"It's alright. Sometimes we just don't know."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't think it was embarrassing."

"Maybe it's because that rarely occurs in an actual life."

"Well...you know."

"No, I don't."

"Not all bad things are bad."

"What, like they're blessings in disguise?"

"Exactly."

"Uh-huh." I started to smile and laugh a bit. I raised my hand, pointing at him, "I think I remembered why I hanged out with you: You're an optimist."

"Well, all I do is try to look on the brighter side of things."

"Yeah, but with you, you never did get upset much."

"I guess."

"Why did we stop hanging out?" At that point, I think I should have just ended with a "goodbye" and leave on good terms.

"I-I don't know. Maybe just high school and time apart."

"Did you have a girlfriend that may have got some time to it, you know? Lady trouble?" _Lady trouble, Gumball? Ha, ha, you're such a goddamn moron._

"No, I...never had a girlfriend."

"Even in high school?" _Oh for Godsakes, why haven't I shut you up yet?_

"Yeah. Never had the chance to be with Miss Right yet."

"Well, that sucks."

"Yeah."

The moment was quiet, and very awkward.

"Not even a crush?" _I should slap you, Gumball, even if I am you._

"Well,"—_Oh god, no—_"I had one."

"Why didn't you take advantage of it?" _Why are you still talking?_

"I guess it just couldn't really happen. I didn't know how the person felt." He stared at me, with those puppy eyes, looking innocent at me, but I knew I shall resist any temptations.

"Indeed," I said, waiting a moment. "I better be on my way." I said that last part with a smile, and he just blushed when I walked away with my stuff. I felt very uncomfortable about the idea that he may had some liking to me, but I can't always assume things. If I do, then it makes an _ass_ out of _u_ and _me_. Believe me.

* * *

Walking takes a bit out of you when you have no sense in what you're supposed to do. I did, however, went inside this weird fancy place that required me to wear a mask. It didn't make much sense to me, I did it either way.

I walked in, almost looking like Zorro, even with my regular outfit, which I took off to be with a good suit. I may have on a tench coat, but I still have some good fancy clothes beneath them.

Walking in, I saw how the place was: The ceiling was higher than God, the way these people dressed seemed very _bold_ and _classic_, and the preparations to get all this started must have been a fortune. Heck, I think almost everyone here has more than $100K in their bank accounts, maybe even in their wallet. I'm stunned by that, almost as much as how everyone stuck very true to the mask thing.

Browsing around, I was greeted by a young lady (I won't use the word _whore_ unless needed to), blonde hair in a silk black dress. She had a mask on—yellow, white, with stunning black eyes. Either her eyeliner faded pretty well with it, or she actually painted her eyes black for the mask to fade in. To my extend, she greeted me with a seductive "_Hello._" Being a gentleman, I said, "Good evening. How are you?"

"She who responds like someone out of the 18th hundreds shall be subject to a connection, wouldn't you agree?"

I think I either hit the jackpot, or really fucked up. Either way, I gotta bite, as my grandpa said (if I remember if I did have one. If I don't, then how the hell did I get that phrase?).

That's probably not the only thing that surprised me. She grabbed me by the shoulder, assuming because of my little smile that we did have a connection, bringing me over to a table, which had five seats, but only three were filled.

I saw three ladies, almost making me think this might just be a little brothel here (and for those who don't know the meaning, it means whore house).

"Ladies, let me introduce to you to our guest," she said, giving me a pleasant introduction.

I said, with a smile my name and that it was a pleasure to be around such beautiful women. I probably think this just might be a dream since there is no way this can be real, even for me. And I'm supposed to know this is real life. But I know somewhere these things _do_ happen, just can't be it's happening to me right now.

"Well, _Gumball_," the redhead with her breast sticking our, more than her mask would dare to show, "if you can attract such a girl as her"—pointing to her—"I think you have a _very_ good chance with one of _us_."

(_...WOW! That sounds dirty...or something. I don't know, but this has got to be a dream._)

"It'd be a pleasure to even be in the same _room_ with _one_ of you _ladies_," I said, with an enchanting smile. She smiled back, giggling a bit, but keeps a good face at being serious.

"Won't you sit with us, Gumball?" the brunette with the visible dress said. I can't tell you any more about this one.

I sat with them, along with the blonde who brought me, who even sat next to me.

I decided to just listen to what they had to say about these things, but it seemed to have been more about them talking about who gets to be with me. I know it sounds crazy enough to believe, even with the slightest idea that I'm telling the truth, but, my friend, _this_ is very real.

Finally, a dance song came up—I think, even you just want to call it classical—and I was asked by the blonde if I wanted to dance. I smiled and said yes.

We walked over to the dance floor, or whatever these people want to call it. We started at a soft and gentle pace, while we stared into each other's eyes (or just her looking at my eyes, trying to figure out who it could be). I _waltz_ the way of that dance floor, I assure you.

A strange thing did occur, when I had spin her around my arm, she wasn't there, but just the redhead. I wish could call them by their names, but it seemed as if my name was the only real thing in existence. I almost thought it was like taking turns, because after the next song, and when it was her turn to spin me, she was gone, and out came the brunette, smiling.

I continued, thinking this is just normal. In which reality? Theirs.

I followed along, then came another one, who had brown hair, very sleek, if I do say so myself, who wore a dress that was only of her body, having this very thin scarf (I'm not the fancy guy to remember the item's name) around her arm, but continued to showcased her breasts, only it seemed more on the bottom, than the top. Confusing, yes. But, I'm in their world now. I even got to the point where I didn't even want to remember this one's mask.

I continued my way with the small dancing, while I soon landed with the fifth, and final one, who had, I repeat, _blue_ hair. I don't remember there being a fifth one, but this was someone else. The good thing, if I may break my manhood, was she wasn't showing off her breast—boobs if I have to get dirty-minded.

"Seems you're enjoying yourself," the blue haired one said, being the first time I was spoken to while dancing.

"I try," I said, not knowing if this can go any longer.

"You were dancing with so many of them, I thought it was my turn to try a dance," she said, with her mask being black, dark blue, light blue, and even white. It seemed a bit creative to me.

"Glad you could consider."

"Indeed, you've never been here."

"How did you know I was new here?"

"Simple," she said, as I spin her around, and she was still there. "You flinched when one of the new girls came."

"I was caught off guard."

"All newcomers say that," she said, smiling. She had this way of dancing with me. She stayed steady with my eyes, as did mine with hers.

We started to get the idea of what were doing, but I started to get the idea that something was really off when a bell rang. I thought people were going to be running. But instead, I saw something that was very unbelievable. I shit you not, this is ALL true.

The bell rang, making all the women go to the left side of the room, where they all started to go on this small stand like thing. All I know that it could be a stage since it was as big as one. They all faced towards me. The thing that was weird, I turned around and only saw like 20 guys there, including me. The blue haired girl left me behind.

Then, when I turned around, all the ladies, every single one, they had taken off all of their clothes. I am very serious.

Then, a big breasted girl came up to present them as bidding items, and, I still shit you not, it was actually Jamie.

I dropped my jaw to figure that one out. She was wearing a sleek black dress, with her breasts being basically the one thing from keeping the dress from falling down.

"Well start with _Madame_ number 1," Jamie said, bringing out the redhead out first. She was completely naked. And, in my opinion, her body was fucking perfect. I'm not even lying. It was like she was a virgin slut with no bad side effects, except for the very reason of being auctioned off as a sex slave, maybe.

The bidding went off with these four guys bidding up to, I still shit you not, at $600. I mean every word what I'm saying.

She was sold to this guy for about $750, but what was funny was I wouldn't care if he had brought a dog leash and a collar for her. Sure enough, he did. And he treated her like if she was a dog, walking her out without any clothes.

I decided to make a run for it. Why? I'm all for getting that kind of girl and so much, but—you need to realize that what they're doing isn't right. Plus, it freaked me out that I didn't even want to go back.

Writing this down, I realize that I would have probably regretted not taking a couple of those girls (forget the term _ladies_ now) back home, but that was until I found someone.


End file.
